I don't find his poetry very vivid. Certainly, most of it seems to have a point, which Whitman doesn't hide. As a matter of fact, he pretty much delivers a non-rhyming lecture with line breaks.

Take a minute to read the rest of his explanation. I'll wait.

I really can't claim my selection is my favorite Whitman poem, because I haven't read all his work. I do understand the gist of Brian's preference for a different style. So, I'm thinking "image or other sensory material" now:

Trees have fallen cross the land
Been transformed to printed page
Combined their weight I can't withstand
Yet must engage, the war they wage

Appearing lifeless at first glance
I fear there's more than meets the eye
Mounds and mounds induce a trance
They multiply, They multiply

My desk I once could find, no more
Enveloped by the rising tide
No longer can I see the floor
In you my plot I will confide

I will reclaim what once was free
Insidious, the plan I hatch
Armed against the processed tree
I light the match, I light the match

An admittedly paltry effort, especially when compared to Brian's sonnet which was nicely done.

March 25, 2004

You are Walt Whitman! Champion of theTranscendentalist American Ideal, Walt Whitmanis one of the first poets to use the "freeverse" form in America. He has beenimitated, but will never be duplicated, justlike you! Except for by everyone else who getsWalt Whitman ;)

Oh I wish I were Walt Whitman! It would be a joy to spend my day immersed in thought and verse.

Here's one of his poems that appealed to me:

O Me! O Life!

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.

It's may be pitiful to bring attention to my own paltry efforts after sharing Walt. But shame has no place in blogging. Lucky for you I can't force you to click the link. Unfortunately for you, I intend to keep trying.

September 08, 2003

This poem was written a number of years ago for a friend who was going through a hard time. It's very close to my heart and I bring it out every couple years. Like a good soup it's taken on the flavors of new memories over time. (To read the entire poem, click on the link under the line, "The dance was for you.")

Faith Dance

I danced for you today,
With tears of both sorrow and joy,
The dance was for you.